The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) (5 page)

“All men must look on my beauty and die.”

“I look on it and I do not die,” said Khan
O-grak. “Let him go, Oghara.”

“But I am the Goddess.” The voice sank to a
whimper and the grip loosened. “In all Zindar, there is nothing so precious as
my beauty.”

“Nothing,” echoed O-grak gently. “Release
him and depart.”

The hands opened and Kerish slid gasping to
the ground. The voice was sweet again, and childlike. “Father, don't leave me
in the dark.”

“It is yours now,” said O-grak, stooping
over the Prince. “Go!”

A sigh filled the room, and for a moment
the scent of Bloodflowers lingered; then the torch flared  into life.

The Khan pulled Kerish to his feet and half
carried him to the couch.

“Your throats bruised but the cuts are
shallow.” O-grak brushed the blood from the Prince's throat with his sleeve. “Since
you kept so staunchly to my advice, you'll come to no harm.”

“But you looked at her.”

O-grak turned his face away. “Three years
ago the Priests of Az chose the Living Goddess from among the fairest daughters
of the Khans and Princes.”

“Your daughter?”

“She believes it herself now,” said O-grak
slowly. “Perhaps she truly is possessed by the Goddess. I shall never know. To
me she will always be Oghara, my only child.”

“She is beautiful then?”

“You were tempted to look? No,” said O-grak
grimly, “she is not beautiful now. Can you walk?”

“Away from here? Yes.” Kerish stood up
unsteadily.

“Good, then I will take you home. You are
fortunate that even the Priests of Az will listen to the father of the Living
Goddess.”

Kerish looked back at the crevice. “How can
you bear to leave her here?”

“She would have killed you, Prince, like
the rest of her consorts. She belongs to darkness now.”

Chapter
3

The Book of the Emperors:
Warnings

And Jezreen
spoke to his kinsmen, rebuking them that they would not journey beyond Galkis
to seek out new gods, but the High Priest answered him saying. “Truth and
goodness dwell in other lands in other shapes. Zeldin has given us our shapes,
let us rejoice in His gifts rather than covet the truths of others.”

Yet Jezreen
said, “I will accept no gift, until I know its worth. It is the duty of the
young to doubt all teachings, and to seek new things.” “And it is the duty of
the old to forget them again,” said the High Priest, and when he saw that the
Prince would not be humbled, he denounced him to the Emperor.

KERISH stood close to the wooden wall, to
study the crimson comb and brindled feathers of a bird, painted weaving its
nest between branches.

“I don't know why we paint them like that,”
said O-grak cheerfully.” I've never seen a bird that color, but then I take
more notice of them in the pot than on the wing. You look better now, Prince.”

A scarf hid the lacerations on Kerish's
throat. Bathed and rested, there was nothing to show for his ordeal but pallor.

“My brother . . .” began Kerish, but O-grak
chose not to listen.

“You'll be better still with food inside
you. Sit to it!”

Kerish crossed meekly to the trestle-table
and the unappetizing bowl of boiled salt-meat.

“The outsides of your towers are so stern.
I would never have guessed that the insides would be so charmingly painted. “

“I told you, I don't know why it's done,
but old ways are kept here.”

O-grak was sprawled in a massive chair with
the tower serpent coiled at his feet. Both of them seemed out of place against
the delicate tracery of branches painted on the circular walls.

“It must have been important once,” mused
Kerish, “a reminder of something . . . you scowl, Khan. Have you no interest in
the history of your people?”

“In Galkis, history is fit to be copied in
pretty hands and read aloud to babes. Here, it is nothing but the memory of old
sorrows and old hates. Do you know how many times Oraz has gone to war against
Mintaz, or Chiraz against Gilaz? Do you know how many men have died in blood
feuds among my own kindred? I have watched the Men of the Five Kingdoms drag
the weight of history behind them, stumbling at each step. I intend to free my
people from that burden.”

At his third attempt, Kerish skewered a
gobbet of meat with his pronged spoon.

“Can one man do so much?”

“Do you doubt my strength?” O-grak held off
Shageesa one-handed as she reared up in mock attack. “Or my courage?”

“No, only your influence. You are Khan of
Orze but your nephew is the Prince of Oraz, and your Overlord.”

O-grak watched Kerish struggle with another
lump of meat before replying. “My nephew has a hole in his wits which I fill
with my counsel. I am the father of the Living Goddess, the greatest warrior in
Oraz and the luckiest leader. Where I go the Men of the Five Kingdoms will
follow.”

“And you will lead them into Galkis?”

The Khan didn't answer directly but bent to
cuff the tower serpent. “Well, Shageesa, what do you think of our new guest?”
The snake glided towards Kerish, her silver tongue flickering.

“Aren't the largest snakes bred in the
Mountains of Zarn?”

“In the foothills, yes. Ah, now she's
failed to frighten you, she'll cajole.”

Shageesa brushed against the Prince's legs
and then laid her jeweled head on his knee. Kerish reached down to touch the
glittering scales but the snake darted coyly back.

O-grak laughed. “Shageesa only grants her
favors to those who dislike her.”

Kerish answered with a smile, “Cats are the
same.”

“Ah. I have heard much about the cats of
Galkis. I was sorry not to see one on my visit to the Inner City.”

“True Galkian cats only live in the Temple
of . . . my Foremother at Hildimarn. There are none in the Palace now.”

“Hildimarn.” O-grak seemed to savor the
word. “I also wanted to see those famous temples, but doubtless they would not
open their gates to a barbarian.”

Kerish pushed away the half-finished bowl
of meat. “No one is barred from our temples, though I confess I can't imagine
you there.”

“Do you think we are only fitted to crawl
in darkness?” growled O-grak.

“I meant no disrespect to the temple of
Idaala,” said Kerish hastily. “There is great strength in darkness.”

      “And an equal strength in light and
perhaps the very beauty of your temples . . . don't look so amazed. Barbarians
have eyes. We acknowledge beauty too.”

“And yet you lead armies who seek to
destroy it.”

O-grak summoned back Shageesa and let her
coil around his chair again. “What I seek is unity for my people against a
common enemy, and an end to warfare amongst ourselves.”

“If you conquer Galkis, do you really
imagine that your alliance will hold once there are spoils to quarrel over?”

“No.” O-grak leaned forward in his chair. “And
that is why I do not wish to conquer Galkis.”

“And is the invasion of Galkis merely a
delusion on our part?”

“Curb your anger, little Prince,” growled
O-grak, “and listen. I mean my people to enjoy the wealth of Galkis, but in
tribute, not plunder. If we lay your lands waste, we will have a glut of spoils
and then nothing. If we leave your cities intact, we can reap their harvest
every year at the price of a few garrisons. The temples of your Foremother will
have to be destroyed, but your people could still worship Zeldin and be
governed much as before.”

“With the heart torn out of Galkis!” Kerish
sprang up from the bench and paced across to the window.

The Khan spoke to his back. “Your Empire is
dying, you know that as well as I do. Would you rather it rotted slowly, or
suffered one swift stroke and the chance of a new beginning? Think!” O-grak
pushed Shageesa away and strode over to the window to stand behind the Prince. “If
gentle Galkis was the captive of the Five Kingdoms, couldn't she seduce her
conquerors with her beauty? Wouldn't our strength and your ancient wisdom
combine to make us the greatest power in Zindar?”

Far below, Kerish could see O-grak's guard
hurling javelins at a practice target.             “Do slaves combine with
their masters?” he asked coldly.

“It is a foolish master who cannot learn
from his servants,” answered O-grak, “but think of it rather as the case of a
man and his wife. The woman is bound to be submissive to her Lord but we both
know that the wife can rule the house with her soft weapons. I don't say that
such a union would come about easily, or without much suffering among your
people, but think of future generations, not your own.”

Kerish turned to face the Khan. “I admire
your far-sightedness but you have forgotten that the Empress of Galkis is a
barbarian too and shares your code of honor. Rimoka will never let you strip
her son of his throne; she will burn the Golden City first. Then there is my
half-sister, Zyrindella. Now that she has seized the north, do you think she
will meekly give it up? And Jerenac, will he surrender Jenoza, for the chance
of peace with humiliation? More than all of this, the people of Galkis, Zeldin
defend them, still love the Godborn and they will die to protect us.”

O-grak smiled. “I am depending on that. If
the Godborn order the people to fight they will, but if the Godborn order them
to surrender, surely they would lay down their arms?”

“Ka-Rim-Loka may be weak and foolish, but
he would never give such an order.”

“No,” said the Khan, “and that is why I
intend to make you Emperor in his place.”

For a moment Kerish's anger choked him. “Is
that what you think of me? That I am fit to be a traitor?”

O-grak looked calmly into the blazing eyes
of the Godborn. “I think that you might have the strength to do what is
repugnant to you, for the sake of your people. You could save the Galkians from
destruction at the cost of their delusions of freedom and your pride.”

“And the murder of my kin?”

“I would spare whoever I could,” said
O-grak, “and imprison them in Orze. I am told that the people of Galkis love
the Lost Prince. I believe they would follow you. Lead them to peace, and rule
as Emperor, with your dear companions at your side. If you refuse my offer, the
Nine Cities will burn and your people will be slaughtered. Surely, your quest
was to save Galkis however you could? I will leave you to think about it,
Prince. Will you do that much for me?”

“How can I help but think about it?”
answered Kerish.

*****

In a small room, lower in the tower,
Forollkin and Gwerath were still sitting side by side on a bedroll but Gwerath
was idly tracing the outline of a nest of chicks on the painted wall, while
Forollkin listened intently to Gidjabolgo.

The Forgite stood in front of one of the
unglazed windows, frowning at the yellow smoke drifting across the landscape,
and disgorging all the information he had picked up from their guards. “The
wind's in the east today, so the smoke and stench are from Gant. The captain of
our guard told me a fine tale about the fire mountains. He claims that there
were once two giants who loved and quarreled over Idaala until their brawling
disturbed the whole of the Five Kingdoms. The Goddess imprisoned them in two
mountains, one on either side of Az. Now they spend the centuries hurling rocks
and breathing fire, still hoping to win the contest.”

“And do they really believe such a story?”
asked Forollkin.

“It has been told in Oraz since before the
last King,” answered Gidjabolgo, “and that is supposed to settle the matter.”

“Why are there only Princes now?” began
Gwerath. “What happened to the Kings?”

Gidjabolgo started to reply when there was
a sudden noise of footsteps and voices. The curtain was thrown back from the
doorway and the Prince walked into the room.

Kerish saw Forollkin striding anxiously
towards him; Gwerath jumping up in her silver-green dress; and Gidjabolgo's
outline dark against the window. Kerish felt as if O-grak's words had built a
wall of glass between him and his past. The others didn't realize yet that it
was there and they couldn't break it down to help him to a decision. Kerish was
almost shocked when Forollkin was able to touch him.

“Are you all right? What's happened to your
throat?”

“A few scratches; one of the hazards of
darkness.”

“You've been inside the temple all this
time? What is it like?” asked Gwerath. “We saw it from the ship and it
frightened me. Why should a heap of stones do that?”

“It is a place of great power,” answered
Kerish, “but no woman need be afraid. I suppose that's why they are forbidden
to enter.”

“So fear is the homage demanded by this
goddess,” murmured Gidjabolgo.

“Fear is blind,” said Kerish, “and hides
them from the certainty of light.”

“But isn't certainty more frightening than
doubt?” asked Forollkin.

There was an uncomfortable pause and then
Gwerath repeated her question about the temple. Kerish told them a little of
what he had seen and felt there but he could not bring himself to talk about
the Living Goddess. His good hand tugged nervously at the  bandage round his
throat.

“So these creepers in the dark can still
see a bribe when it's waved in front of them,” concluded Gidjabolgo. “No doubt
O-grak will have to demand a fat ransom to recover what he's spent on us.”

“The Khan does not intend to ransom us,”
said Kerish softly.

“You mean he wants a price for our murder?”
exclaimed Forollkin. “Does he know . . . ?”

“He knows everything about the Godborn. He
was there the night Gankali died. “ Kerish paced across the small room and the
soaring birds painted on its walls seemed to jeer at their captivity. “He knows
that our brother, the Emperor, is weak, that the north is in revolt and the
south desperate for troops. He knows that Rimoka wants me dead and that the
people love the Third Prince whom they hardly know. . . “

“Ah, I begin to see . . . a pretty game,
and will you play?”

Forollkin ignored Gidjabolgo and persisted
with his questions. “Is it information he wants for an attack on Galkis? Thank
Zeldin, we know little enough about the defenses of Viroc, and if they reached
Galkis itself... well, the city was not built to withstand attack and . . .”

“The Khan wishes to avoid attacking Galkis,
“ said Kerish carefully. “He wants the Empire as a peaceful and profitable
vassal.”

“That could never happen. I've no reason to
love Rimoka, “ declared Forollkin, “but I trust her pride to fight beyond the
last hope, and the Emperor will obey her.”

“Yes. That is why O-grak intends to replace
him.”

“He would dare to set himself on the throne
of the Godborn?”

“No.” It was Gidjabolgo who answered him. “Not
with a Prince of the Godborn at his command.”

“Shut up, Gidjabolgo. Kerish, for Imarko's
sake, don't stand there looking so blank, tell me what O-grak said to you!”

“Gidjabolgo has it right.” Kerish spoke
without expression. “O-grak wants to make me Emperor and I am to call on the
people to accept a peace. I would rule Galkis as a vassal of the Princes of
Oraz and the armies of the Five Kingdoms would rove westwards, in search of new
conquests.”

“Zeldin's grief, he dared to suggest that
to you?” Forollkin's face darkened. “Does he really think that a Prince of the
Godborn would betray his own people into slavery?”

“I told him,” said Kerish calmly, “that I
would consider it.”

“You couldn't have!” declared Forollkin. “However
much we quarrel, the Godborn are one kindred. We are bound to each other and to
our Emperor and we must strive against the barbarians and their Lady of Blood.
What is there to live for if we give up our freedom and everything we believe
in? Any death is better than that!”